B.T.V. -- Session 15 Epilogue: Dragon's Ride
Who Dares Wins…or
Gets Their Asses Kicked
Axewing, Sybermane, Asmodeus, Asurbanipal, Shadowjack and Dantalion are standing in the Tardis, wondering what comes next, when the Doctor announces, “We, we are here. You’re quite sure you want to leave the Tardis?”
He pauses, and frowns. “I don’t think I’ve said that before.”
They step through the door and find themselves in a very dark room, the only illumination coming from the top of a set of stairs. Axewing heads up, taking the axe off his back as he does so.
“It seems he will be in the front on this adventure,” Asmodeus observes drily.
“I stand ready to assist, if necessary,” Dantalion declares.
“I’m not much use without my vessel,” Asurbanipal laments quietly. “I do have a shot with my pistol, but then I’ll have to reload.”
They emerge in what looks like a cargo area, with crates scattered the room. Axewing and Dantalion head off in one direction, while Sybermane moves toward a noise his more perceptive ears hear from a door down a short corridor. He hears a clicking noise, freezes, and then looks behind him, only to find Asurbanipal hard on his hooves. The noise has ceased, and Asurbanipal seems insensate to why they stopped. Sybermane takes two steps and hears two distinct clicks.
“Is something wrong?” Asurbanipal asks, in a quiet voice.
“Are you wearing tap shoes?” Sybermane demands.
Asurbanipal looks puzzled, but then glances at his walking stick, then at his companion.
“Ah. Sorry.” Motioning Sybermane closer, he explains, “I’m really not a thief.”
He looks around and sees Asmodeus and Shadowjack standing at the top of the stairs, looking indignant. Axewing and Dantalion are nowhere in sight.
“We are the outsiders,” Asurbanipal conjectures. “I don’t know why.”
Axewing, having crossed the open area, finds a door in the far wall, and a corridor perpendicular to it. A drab violet light is coming from the tiles on the floor, but the doors and walls are wooden. He listens at the door, and hearing another door opening, the sound of footsteps, and a yawn, but an inhuman one. Axewing poises his axe, ready to use the flat of the blade against anyone emerging from the door he is by, but the footsteps don’t stop. The sound of the steps change, sounding more like a stomp, but somehow diminishing in volume as well.
Dantalion has a hand on another door nearby, but Axewing motions to her, pointing at the handle of the door he’s at. She crosses to it, listens a moment, and then pulls the door open toward her, moving away as she does so.
Axewing looks in, and sees a wide corridor leading away, doors on either side, and a stairway leading down. Presumably the steps he’d heard earlier had been someone descending that.
Sybermane, approaching the door he had earlier heard a noise from, notices a humming, but it stops, then some footsteps, sounding quite heavy, followed by a brief scraping noise. Then footsteps come again, moving away from the door, and then a repetitive noise, like a knife chopping something on a cutting board.
The Equinn reaches for the handle, and pulls it open, wide enough so he can see into what looks like a kitchen. He sees someone, his back to the door, cutting away at something, looking very odd. He’s just over six feet tall, but four feet wide at the shoulders. This one’s race is not familiar to him. The being has no hair on the back of its head, and his skin is a grayish-blue, and slick-looking. Sybermane sees folds at its neck, when it bends its head a little further forward.
Sybermane steps into the room and asked, “Do you take special orders?”
The creature whirls about and reveals a wide maw with jagged teeth—a lot of teeth—and tiny black eyes.
“Landshark?” Sybermane asks himself but suppresses a chuckle.
“Is the fish off tonight?” he inquires of the shark, which must be one of the Monstrous. It motions with an empty hand, ending in three very thick digits, to approach.
Sybermane takes a step or two closer.
“You are new,” the shark suggests.
“That’s right.”
“What do you want?” Sybermane sees two large brains on the table. Brains maybe two feet across.
“Can you accommodate a vegetarian diet?” Sybermane asks.
The Monstrous stares at Sybermane, blinking his tiny eyes.
“I’m going to take that as a no.” The Equinn notices the sharkman is shifting his foot from one foot to another, possibly in agitation.
“What are you?”
“I’m an Equinn.”
“Are you? Hmm.”
“Who do you serve?”
“Khons.”
“I don’t know any Khons.”
Axewing steps into the wide corridor, then pulls open to the door on his immediate right. He sees a sleeping palette inside, raised off the floor, perhaps eight feet long. He motions Dante over, and says in a low voice, “They appear to be guard rooms. I heard movement and they appear to have gone downstairs.”
Before she can answer, they hear footsteps climbing stairs. Axewing pops into the small room, and motions her to follow, then shuts the door, not completely, and watches through a crack. Eventually, a Monstrous warrior reaches the top of the stairs, a thick bone spike emerging from each forearm, random horns emerging from his back. It wears a breastplate that barely covers its chest, and the colours red and blue. Axewing backs up and gets ready to swing, and not with the flat of the blade.
The warrior seems to be approaching the door, and Axewing plans to swing as soon as it comes through. Instead, he hears footsteps up to the door and then it flies open as the Monstrous kicks it in. It’s standing in the doorway, obviously ready to fight.
Axewing sends a tremendous blow at the Monstrous, the blade of his axe slashing across the creature’s belly. It bellows angrily in pain. Lady Dantalion goes on the attack when the warrior swings one big arm in an uppercut at Axewing, but misses. Dantalion scores a line of blood across the creature’s one arm.
The manshark-cook suddenly states, “Human!”
“I most certainly am not,” Sybermane replied with a measure of indignity.
“Oh, sink me,” the Equinn hears from behind him, and realizes the Monstrous is talking about Asurbanipal. Sybermane takes a step to the side as the sharkman starts moving toward the doorway.
“What are you doing loose?” the cook demands. Sybermane took another step, and the Monstrous’s back is fully exposed to him. He instantly draws his Jhato, and the blade plunges through the manshark as a knife into butter, and out as quickly. He’s struck the heart or some other vital organ, for the creature falls dead to the floor.
Asurbanipal steps adroitly to the side as a spray of bloom emerges from the falling manshark, then brushes at a few speckles on his tunic. “I expect it’s impossible that you can warn me of such things.”
They hear a humming noise, then a rumble, followed by the whole room shaking, but the vibration stops.
“I can’t help but wonder where those brains come from?” Sybermane asks. “Would you know?”
“Who? Me? Ah. Many marine animals have large brains.”
Sybermane, about to leave the room, pauses.
“I should have thought to ask you, as a sailor. Are we on a ship, or on land?”
“We are on a ship,” Asurbanipal mentions, then suggests the rumbling might be from its propulsion system.
“Let’s go see what the others have found,” Sybermane suggests. “We don’t want them to stray too far.”
“And I will refrain from telling them you referred to them as straying.”
The warrior lets out a huge bellow, and moments later, Axewing hears movement outside the compartment they’re in. Seeing Dantalion lunging at the creature, he does the same with the spike atop his axe, which pierces where a kidney would be on a human body. The warrior yells again, but this time either seeking help or admitting defeat, or both.
Dantalion boots the Monstrous, and it falls back to Axewing’s right, outside in the passageway, finished. Dantalion rolls and comes to her feet. Axewing follows her into the passageway, and sees several similar Monstrous guards coming toward them, and moves to engage them, as does Dantalion. Axewing grips his axe as far down its hilt as possible, to give him the widest arc of swing possible. One of the creatures moves to meet Axewing, while another, further away, is charging at him from down the passageway.
“I don’t see Asmodeus, or Shadowjack,” Asurbanipal notes as they emerge into the cargo hold.
“That’s not really a surprise when it comes to Shadowjack, is it?” Sybermane asks. They hear fighting coming from beyond the far side of the hold, and they hurry that way, seeing Dantalion’s and Axewing’s backs.
Axewing moves so his closest opponent is between him and the charging Monstrous. He nearly takes off the guard’s knee with a swing of his blade, then shoves a shoulder into it, knocking it back in the direction of the oncoming Monstrous. The guard goes flying back, both arms flailing, almost hitting comrades on either side with its spikes, before crashing into the charging guard. Dantalion strides further into the wide passageway, to Axewing’s right, as she closes on her first target.
Sybermane moves toward them in a stealthy but quick sneak, draws his shortbow, and looses an SSr arrow that hits the guard Axewing had shoved, and then another missile finds its mark. The arrows don’t penetrate deeply, but finish the Monstrous, who collapses.
Dantalion swings her greatsword, just missing her opponent, and it returns the favour. She, however, is not done, and slashes with her second and third strikes, opening shallow wounds.
Axewing, engaging another guard, cuts at his opponent and scratches it. Two more guards are coming through hatches further down the passageway, he notices.
Sybermane, putting his bow away, moves to take on the guard that had been charging just moments earlier, exchanging blows over the body of its compatriots. His Jhato digs into the guard’s shoulder, who in turn misses in an effort with one of its forearm-spikes. Another bite of the Jhato cuts open the Monstrous’s left side.
Axewing swings his axe at the same time as his opponent its bone spike, and their weapons clash and trap each other. Dantalion’s opponent just misses her again, and she has trouble with her swing, and must take a moment to recover.
Behind them, Asurbanipal strolls jauntily toward the fight.
Axewing, with the weapons tangled, swings a boot at the guard, his enormous strength causing the Monstrous to grunt, before it in turn tries to kick the man, but seemingly unused to this manoeuvre, goes wide of its mark.
Axewing finally wrenches his axe free and backs off slightly to recover.
Sybermane has struck his opponent again, slashing at its right side.
Dantalion unleashes a mighty swing, instantly killing her Monstrous, blade edge caving in its skull.
The warrior that had been engaging Axewing abruptly finds itself pulled back and forcefully shoved into a bulkhead, as a fresh attacker comes at the human. Axewing’s axe flashes twice, formidable wounds following each, and the newcomer already appears ragged. It attempts to strike Axewing, but it’s a feeble effort, and the human’s original attacker is pushed back in front of him as an improvised while the newcomer backs off.
Sybermane only scratches his enemy’s upper thigh, the wound notdeep enough to find an artery. The opponent strikes back, its spike penetrating the Equinn’s side, but not too deeply. Sybermane puts his blade’s point into the guard’s throat, finishing it off.
Dantalion notices a guard has come up the ladder behind her, Axewing and Sybermane and moves toward it. He makes a clumsy swing that is turned away by her armour, and she hits him first once, then twice, putting it on the deck.
Axewing, with a single strike of his axe, takes the head off his enemy. He steps ahead and a warrior moves to check him, shouting a command of some kind. Sybermane also advances, finding his own target.
Dantalion, seemingly deciding her companions had the fight in hand as yet another Monstrous comes into sight coming toward the others, down the passageway. Axewing’s blade finds his opponent’s groin in a spray of blood, and the creature fails to land a blow on the man.
Sybermane, in a change of pace, launches a hard kick at his Monstrous, at the last moment altering his foot into a hoof, and the strike from a soft one to hard. The kick sinks deeply into the guard’s belly and it doubles over in pain. Sybermane’s Jhato darts in and out, piercing its shoulder.
As Dantalion disappears down the ladder, Asurbanipal strolls over to the near handrailing, keeping an eye on both her and Sybermane and Axewing. The brash warrior Axewing gave a battering to earlier falls back into the doorway of a sleeping compartment, displaying a certain survival instinct the others seem to lack.
The guard across from Axewing takes a stance, hands close together, the bone spike pointed toward the human. Axewing sees a chance to land a blow, launching a sideways slash, but just as he does so, a loop of entrails from a fallen Monstrous catches his ankle, and he stumbles to one knee, probably a blessing, for the guard somehow launches its two spikes toward him, one sailing over his head, the other beside his ear, when his chest had been an instant earlier. Blood spouts from its forearms, where the spikes had emerged.
Sybermane and his enemy both record a swing and a miss. The Equinn punches at the enemy’s arm, his hand, like his foot, turning into a hoof at the last instant, and feels flesh and possibly bone crunch behind his strike. His opponent is still alive, but bleeding profusely.
Axewing thrusts with his spike again, catching the Monstrous in its belly, and as he pulls the weapon free, it slumps to its knees, revealing an unwelcome sight.
Another Monstrous, seeming both a living being and a mechanical creation, long, bony tentacles tipped by spikes emerging from its upper back on either side, comes toward Axewing. One tentacle reaches out and stabs a Monstrous guard in the back. This monster is larger than the others. Axewing calls upon one of the Gifts bestowed on him, a strike in which his weapon cannot fail to find home, jarring the creature with the force of the blade’s impact.
Sybermane’s Jhato lashes in and out of his enemy’s abdomen, where a human would have a liver, and the shock finishes the creature off.
The bony warrior strikes at Axewing with its hand, a painful blow to the human’s abdomen, causing him some distress though he didn’t let that deter him. The creature’s tentacles wave about, but don’t reach him.
Asurbanipal chooses that instant to fire his pistol, the powerful ball plunging into the bone warrior’s chest, but it shakes that off somehow.
Meanwhile, a guard retreating down the passageway shouts something, but its words are indecipherable.
While Axewing distracts the bone warrior, Sybermane attacks from its side, his Jhato lancing to the Monstrous’s torso, creating a wound from which red viscous fluid seeps out. The newcomer screams again, but in a challenging fashion, as if annoyed.
The warrior seems intent on attacking Sybermane, but after clenching its bony fist, it hesitates, and opens them again for some unknown reason. The Equinn is startled enough that his attack falters, though Axewing lands a considerable blow.
This Monstrous changes its mind again and swings a fist at Sybermane, clobbering the Equinn in the side of his head, and for a moment he can’t see straight, though he recovers quickly. A tentacle seeks out Axewing and jabs him, puncturing his upper arm.
Sybermane plunges his Jhato into the enemy’s torso again, just above its hip, causing what normally would be a disabling injury, but somehow isn’t. He ducks to avoid a tentacle’s spike.
They hear a scream from down the passageway, a sound similar to what their current enemy had emitted earlier, and lights come on, extending their field of vision. At the end, the passageway widens into a cargo-handling hold, large wooden hatches set into the deck. Two more of the bony warriors have appeared, a smaller one coming toward them, the other, considerably larger, standing atop the hatch.
Sybermane, returning to their current opponent, seeks his enemy’s body but finds his way blocked by a swinging tentacle. Axewing has no such issue, and his blade crunches through bone. The Monstrous’s legs go rigid, but the rest of its body slumps, its tentacles drooping to the floor.
Asmodeus finally seems ready to take on an opponent, walking past them toward the smaller of the new bone warriors. Sybermane sheathes his Jhato and takes out his bow instead, to support his fellow Obsidian.
Axewing, meanwhile, steps into the sleeping compartment where the heavily wounded brash attacker from earlier has taken refuge. It appears to be in a trance, and Axewing uses his axe to fell it.
Sybermane looses a SSr at the smaller bony warrior, the arrow finding its marks, though seemingly to little effect. He unleashes another, but something distracts him, and the arrow goes flying down the corridor, finding a home in one eye of the larger bony Monstrous, blinding it on one side, to its annoyance.
Axewing returns to the passageway as Asmodeus approaches the smaller bone warrior, then strolls past it. The creature looks at him as he passes. Axewing moves in before the Monstrous can attack, and his blade bites deeply into the creature’s shoulder.
Sybermane moves forward to ensure a clear shot at the opponent, and looses a SSr, missing, then pinking the creature with a second shot. It gives an angry bellow. Asmodeus stops his advance and looks at his two fellow Obsidian as if they are mad. He folds his arms and watches.
Axewing lands another stupendous attack, just after the warrior’s punch lands a bruising hit on him. The Monstrous tries again but fails to connect.
“You do realize that it was under my control?” Asmodeus asks sarcastically. The others have no time to respond to this startling news, but Sybermane’s next arrow glances off Axewing’s helm. Asmodeus turns and begins striding toward the bigger one again.
Axewing miscalculates and checks his swing in hopes of Asmodeus regaining control of the smaller warrior, but the creature remains antagonistic, and a tentacle wraps around the top of one of the human’s tall boots. It tries to pull Axewing closer, and in doing so seals its own doom, though it doesn’t realize so yet.
The second tentacle hits Axewing on the upper chest, precisely where the Void awaits. For a moment, Axewing appears to be impaled, but the Armour of Time has saved him. The creature’s tentacle starts to be slowly drawn into the Void, but the limb has some elasticity so the effect is not immediate. Axewing still has room to swing his axe, taking the bony creature in its hip, biting deeply beneath its natural armour. Sybermane moves around and comes at it from behind with his Jhato, launching what was known to the Khrescent as a sneak attack, stabbing through the region of its groin.
Asurbanipal starts to close on the fight, with Dantalion not far behind. Asmodeus, at the other end of the passageway, attempts to take mental control of the big one, but fails to do so. It makes a victorious roar, echoing off the overhead high above.
Asmodeus makes some other effort, but that fails as well. He shrugs and pulls out his flail. The creature, with one step, reaches him.
Then, something happens. Asmodeus and Axewing are not affected, but the others are.
Sybermane becomes aware that a hatch has opened behind him. Its swings inward and away from him, and then a brawny Quinnial appears.
“Quick, brother! In here,” the Quinnial cries, holding out a lumpy hand palm-first. Than a garrotte appears around his neck and he is pulled back into the darkness of the compartment, as the hatch swings shut.
Sybermane runs and leaps, flying across the intervening space to kick the door open, revealing the room within. He lands on his feet about five feet inside, and he sees the Quinnial being held by a figure. All that is visible of the latter is a head, adorned with a Bit mask.
Outside, Axewing is still struggling with his attacker, and he thrusts his axe pike into its head. Before disappearing into the Void, a spike atop a tentacle strikes home, lancing into Axewing’s shoulder. The Monstrous then disappears with a sucking noise, and Axewing immediately calls upon another Gift, of the Light, healing almost all the injuries he had sustained.
He looks around, but sees no sign of Sybermane, Asurbanipal or Dantalion. Asmodeus is somehow holding his own, but not by attacking the bigger warrior. Having through of another strategy, he begins conversing, seemingly with the Monstrous.
“It’s most interesting, but I’m afraid we can’t help you with that,” Asmodeus is saying as Axewing nears. The creature nods as if listening. Asmodeus turns to the human. “This one is the only one you can deal with. It wants its child back,” he informs Axewing, smirking all the time.
“He cannot hear you,” he then tells the creature, before directing his words to Axewing again. “It’s speaking to you. I will act as translator.”
Sybermane reverses his hold on Jhato and, both hands on the hilt, drives the point downward toward the Bit’s head, but it glances off the other assassin’s skull. The blade continues sliding downward, then is trapped between the Bit and the Quinnial. The last then wraps Sybermane in a bear hug, as if happy to see the Equinn, but then transforms into a Bit wearing a tri-corner hat.
“You are my prisoner,” the Bit announces. Sybermane bashes his shoulder into his captor, hoping to knock both the assassins backward and escape their grasp, but they shift their mass to prevent that.
Then Sybermane finds himself in a new situation.
Axewing asks Asmodeus, “Do we destroy it, or can you control it?”
“Well, we could fight it out, but I imagine you are a capable fighter. You are bred for war, are you not?” The creature nods at that. “Oh. I see.” He speaks to Axewing. “Apparently he is commanded by another, on another vessel from this one. He’s being asked to bring us to this ship.”
“We are searching for the Bit. Are there Bit here?”
“Yes. The Bit are below. They sent these above to fight us. But these Bit below are not in command? No, they are not in command.”
“What is in command?” In Axewing’s mind, the bony warrior projects an image of an handsomely dressed humanoid. “This is the head we must cut off, then.”
“You really must refrain from announcing our plans to the enemy.”
”What else am I going to do with this?” Axewing inquires, lifting his axe. The creature seems amused by his confidence. “What of the others? Will it bring us all?”
“I don’t know. Where are they?”
"Once I dealt with one of its children, they were gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean gone?” Asmodeus glances up at large creature. “Yes. He wonders if we are going to fight now. Not now. Perhaps later for your master’s entertainment. I did not mean to imply he was your master.” The tentacles, which had started to move aggressively, were lowered. “We learn something when we misstep as often as when we succeed. The others who are part of our boarding party. Are they with your leader? It’s not certain, but it believes it is likely. It is aware they vanished into the rooms back there, but he does not sense them there any longer.”
“Then we had best go.”
Sybermane appears in a beautiful-decorated chamber, a tiled terrace outside where plants grow. The sky is filled with the Aethera, and while quite alien is also beautiful. The breeze coming in is a bit cold, but not uncomfortably so. Three chairs are arranged in front of him, an individual he will learn is named Mirable seated in one. Mirable motions with his walking stick to the chairs in front of him.
“Sit if you wish. I have no reason not to allow you to sit. Perhaps you wish to stand?”
Sybermane sheathes his Jhato and takes a seat. An odd-looking individual, carrying an oversized axe-knife and adorned with red hair atop his pate, sat in the remaining chair.
”You put up quite a struggle. It’s quite interesting to have someone struggle,” Mirable says in way of starting a conversation.
Sybermane shrugs. He’s been in similar situations before.
“You do not wish to speak? Perhaps horses do not speak where you come from. Welcome to the Flagellant Receptor, the ship you are on.”
“Nice ship.”
“It’s home,” Mirable replies, displaying pleasure that Sybermane has chosen to speak. Ceptor smirks at that comment.
The last says with relish, “There are quite a few people interested in you. Quite a few. You are worth something. Perhaps you will demand a high price for yourself.”
“We can come to these things later. You’re quite robust,” Mirable tells the Equinn.
“I feel like I should say thank you, but I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”
“I’d put you at just under 300,” Ceptor estimates, obviously referring to Sybermane’s weight. The Equinn can see where this is going but plays along. He wishes they’d skip the foreplay and get on to whatever they had to propose to him. If they just wanted him for meat, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. The pantomime continues.
“Ceptor here is a most valued assessor of value. I rely on him for such.”
“No less than 290,” Ceptor corrects himself.
Mirable, a patch on one eye, observes, “Even if we charge 200 a pound, a sizeable profit would be made.”
”Are you skilled with your weapons? I would like to hear more from your own mouth,” Ceptor inquires.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Highly, or…?”
“You never know until you’ve been in battle.”
Ceptor reaches out a hand as if to touch the Equinn, but then pulls it back, pretending self-control asserting itself over some desire.
Sybermane chides, “You haven’t introduced yourself.”
“I am filled with opportunities,” Mirable apologizes, and then gives his name. “I am something of a leader of the Monstrous.”
“Something of a leader?” Sybermane asks dubiously, looking around the chamber.
“He is too modest,” Ceptor rasps.
Mirable taps his walking stick in front of him. “Perhaps you are worth more than merely weight in meat.”
Finally, Sybermane thinks, they’re getting around to the real point of this encounter. “I like to think so.”
“You would be of greater value if you were knowledgeable.”
“About?”
“Who and what you are?”
“You don’t know?”
“Often the most mysterious thing is oneself,” Mirable replies.
“Perhaps he is not aware of his own destiny,” Ceptor suggests.
There’s the carrot, Sybermane thinks. Pump up his sense of self-worth. Softening him up for when the other shoe drops. It wasn’t as if the Equinn is nonchalant about what might happen to him should they decide to consign him to some grisly fate. He is afraid, to a degree. But he’d seen this dog-and-pony show before with other actors. Why does no one just offer him a business deal? They’d have better luck, he figures.
“Or is it fate?” Mirable asks. Sybermane can’t help but let a laugh escape.
“I hadn’t considered that,” the Monstrous continues. “As you can see, we are a wealthy group. The Monstrous have access to things that other organizations beyond the Aethera cannot readily get to. With the Flagellant Receptor, we can sail to points on prime material, access others don’t have.”
“Have you been to the prime material? It’s not that great.”
“You believe your homeworld is not worthy?”
“It’s not my homeworld.”
“What is your homeland then?”
Sybermane tells him that’s so long ago, he can’t remember quickly. Mirable is disdainful.
“The plane. You cannot dismiss it, even if it has been removed. The plane carries forward, does it not? These things are eternal?”
“Like I said, I haven’t been in this realm long enough to determine that.”
“All you know exists there. Yet you would disparage such a place? You might still be meat. I had hoped for better. I know many things about you. You should stop trying to be tricky with me. We know things about the material world, things you would benefit from.”
“How do I know it’s a serious offer?”
“You came here. We did not call for you. You have invaded our space.”
“As far as I know, I’m from the material plane, but it’s so long ago, I don’t really remember my childhood,” Sybermane repeats.
“You are attempting to convince me you are a mere mortal of a place and time now lost.”
Sybermane didn’t understand what Mirable was trying to sell him. Mortal? When he’d already survived several Realms of Existence? He wishes he was in a tavern, listening to a minstrel perform, even a poet orate. “You invaded the Ambulant Introspector, you avoided its defences, and then slew several difficult-to-raise monsters. But you are just an itinerant mortal Quinn. If I were to reveal my true form, you would be a mewling puddle.”
“I never claimed to be a mortal.”
“You travel with others?” Mirabel says, changing tack. “Who are they to you?”
“They’re fellow members of the Obsidian,” Sybermane offers. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Sometimes.
“It is as you expected,” Ceptor rasps. “You have done well, Mirable.”
“What do the Outremer mean by coming to Aethera? Is it war?” Mirable demands.
“We just want to kill the Bit.”
“They want to slay the slayers,” Ceptor says. He reaches again for Sybermane, then stops himself once more.
“The Bit are many. The Obsidian are few. Could you be so powerful? What would you do to gain the advantage over the Bit? Have you anything?”
“I’d be willing to do a deal.” Sybermane hoped they’d finally reached the productive portion of the encounter.
“What do you have to offer?”
“Let me think a bit.” Sybermane realizes the pun too late.
Axewing appears in an oddly-shaped room with Shadowjack, Asmodeus and Dantalion.
“We seem to have been placed in detention,” Asmodeus observes unnecessarily.
Axewing counters, “I suppose we need a thief then.”
Jack has other ideas. “Just what were you up to, running around, swinging your blade everywhere? Even Asurbanipal got carried away and started shooting.”
Dantalion makes an appeal of her own to Jack. “Can you get us out of here? I have heard great things about your abilities.”
“At the moment, I am casing the joint. Shadow, being what it is here…these vessels they travel in a way that seems somewhat removed from the planes they move through, and they also seem shielded from the Thoughts. Perhaps they became fortresses, and became more important as they began to move. My control over Shadow is limited.”
“We are associated with Time,” Axewing reminds everyone, though of course Jack is not.
“Surely there is a mechanism we can use.”
“What mechanism?” Jack demands. “Aethera is not the realm of Time, certainly.”
“It is our place,” Axewing insists. “We are the Obsidian. We are of the first family of the Outremer.”
“As you say, we three are of Taiphon,” Asmodeus observes. “Surely we can work through this, though Time is a slippery eel.”
Dantalion asks, “If you continue to use your faculties on our behalf, we must be able…you are a caster of magicks? I might be able to get us beyond this chamber, but the danger is we might end up in the Aethera. I do not feel at home here, in the Aerthera.”
Axewing insists they should be able to do something, but Dantalion reminds him, “In truth, we are of the Astra, not the Aethera.”
They start to suggest ideas to each other, and after a bit, Axewing asks, “Perhaps it is the Gods we should look to?”
“Do you know of any who still exist?” Asmodeus asks. “And do you know of any suitable for such a place?”
“Only one,” Axewing answers.
“I might be able to assist,” Asmodeus relents. “I have several key invocations for Gods.”
“Well, ain’t that dandy,” Jack says in an unhappy tone.
Asmodeus, ignoring that, continues, “My invocations extend beyond Gods, perhaps to lower elements of society, to those who have interest in crimes unsolved.”
“This is a new chance for us, you know,” Jack replies acerbically.
“Then let us not dredge up old differences.”
Axewing tells the others of Anubis, who is divided as the result of the work of a mystical dagger. Whether or not that God would be useful would depend on the part of him invoked. Asmodeus said he, too, had heard this, and that at least one part resides on Axildusk. Dantalion adds, “Anubis would be ideal. He is one who guards the living.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that, but I am happy enough for it to be him,” Jack concedes.
“This Anubis has a connection to the Thought I serve. It was Shadow that brought the pieces of this God into the realm.”
“I believe there are eight pieces,” Axewing contributes.
Asmodeus suggests taking care in what pieces they recombine. “If we could reconstitute this Anubis, we could escape with more than we need.”
“It would be a great thing, but we would need the dagger as well,” Axewing says.
“It is known as the Spectral Blade,” Dantalion notes. “Only the Ra can hold it.”
“Only the leader of the Veightal can wield the knife effectively,” Jack agrees.
“Or…?” Asmodeus asks.
“What the devil do you mean? I understand thinking big is what you do best, but we are the Obsidian. Anything you do here affects us all.”
Axewing inquires, “We have all been servants of the gods at one time or another, have we not?”
“Some of us served for a time,” Asmodeus granted. “What is your point?”
“The gods are an important fixture who are missing,” Axewing replies. “They will make us greater.”
“Absolutely,” Asmodeus avers, his eyes gleaming.
“Take it easy, Axewing,” Jack urges.
“The Veightal are important,” Axewing counters, “Because not only did they win the war between the pantheons, but within them existed a Noble Thought, which is what perhaps made them great. They could become one. We all know certain members of them have, what was it called, the Fugue, where they could be in many different places at once. All these things made the Veightal great, because we know who was greatest among them. Who we serve. Most of us.”
Asmodeus grins at Jack, who asks, “But we are all allies here, yes?”
“Because Shadow rules here, not the other,” Asmodeus asserts.
“We are a family,” Axewing insists. “We are united because we are Obsidian.”
Dantalion says others before them had once been of the Obsidian.
“These things do not need to be discussed now,” Asmodeus says dismissively. Dantalion is undeterred.
“Some of the other Noble thoughts were represented by others of our number. But they are gone.”
“We are six in a war among many,” Axewing says.
“I am a traveller,” Dantalion begins, but is interrupted by Jack.
“You keep saying that.”
“I have seen much. More than the rest of you.” She goes on to suggest that, while other Noble Thoughts might be involved with the Obsidian, they were not present in Axildusk.
Axewing vows, “Then we will keep this in remembrance, when opportunity comes, we must seek more of our own kind.”
“Serve your charities if you wish,” Asmodeus sneers. “All I know, Time has managed through its own incredible gifts to bring us through to this point. I’m not saying other Thoughts—and Shadow,” he adds belatedly, “—have worked together to bring this happy situation to us.”
“I kind of agree with you,” Jack allows, “Only in that these other Thoughts must pay,” he rubs his fingers across his thumb, “If they are to come through with our hard work and labour to thank.”
“I am not even certain it is worthwhile, no matter what price is paid,” Asmodeus suggests.
Axewing points out that other Principalities, including the Marillion and Amber, “are already engaged on Axildusk.”
“We are only six,” Asmodeus notes.
“Fewer than that at the moment,” Dantalion points out.
Axewing contends, “Let us leave that argument then for another time and return to the Gods. Can you bring the Anubis here? Can he be restored?”
“Let us concentrate, shall we,” Dantalion directs. “Axewing is quite determined to follow this through until we come to a conclusion. Is it worth the effort to bring this Anubis through?”
“The knife you speak of,” Asmodeus reminds them. “Perhaps this must be thought through first.”
“The knife separated them,” Axewing says. “The knife is required to bind them.”
“And my stylus will finish what is required,” Asmodeus concludes. “Come, let us clasp hands on this motive.”
They do so, led by Asmodeus, next Axewing and then Dantalion.
“Please join us Shadowjack,” she implores. “We need what you offer.”
Jack reminds the others of the absence of Asurbanipal and Sybermane. “Surely this is our first objective. We do not feel a loss. We can only presume they still live.”
“I can reach out to them,” Asmodeus offers. “But first I must have your hand.”
“Blackmail?” Jack responds drily. “How unlike you.”
“I borrow from your playbook.”
Jack relents. “We are joined in this, but I reserve the right to pull my hand out of the fire if my colleagues should have reservations about this.”
“I can honour that,” Asmodeus allows.
“So what can you do to locate them? I would have them here.”
“A moment. I will search for them.” He takes out his Stylus and begins writing digits in the air only he can see. “The Sailor of Shadow, he is being held nearby, in a level above us, but directly so.”
“What?” Jack asks. “Just there?”
“Perhaps 20 yards, no less.”
“I can manage such a movement.”
“I believe he is unconscious. This could be a difficulty.”
“I see.” Jack moves and, in doing so, vanishes.
“I am most interested in what you might be able to provide, you and your Obsidian fellows,” Mirable concedes. “If you wish to annihilate the Bit, it could serve my ambitions reasonably well. I could be made willing to look the other way.”
Ceptor is more wary. “This is most risky, Mirable. Are you sure it is worth the risk? I do not know if you can potentially…to suggest the Bit might be replaced…”
“Do I not have powers?” Mirable summons two violet spheres reeking of power that hang about him.
“The Bit have other powers, powers we do not possess. And if the Master….” Ceptor stops speaking, as if in regret, or perhaps on cue.
“Your Master?” Sybermane inquires.
“Ceptor speaks too openly,” Mirable says airily.
“Are you confident in your relationship with that one?” Sybermane asks, meaning the Master.
“Do not be too hasty,” Ceptor urges. “Two thousand nine hundred brains have a lot of value?”
“Do forgive him,” Mirable asks of Sybermane. “You were speaking to me. No. None would take such a bold action as to be comfortable in his presence.”
"If you were to run afoul of this one, what value would there be in the pledged full protection of the Obsidian for you and your kind?”
“If I was to run afoul of this one, nothing could be done. Such as his power. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”
Ceptor adds, “It would be foolish to contemplate. This one is not worthwhile. Risking so much for what?”
Mirable explains, “I consider the potential of the Obsidian and their redoubtable connections to nobility.”
“But we have already achieved so much.”
“We are at a standstill, a plateau we can only watch from.”
“I don’t understand. What could they possibly mean to us, we who….”
“We are wise indeed to hold your tongue.”
“I only speak from emotion.”
“The dreams of our kind realized. I understand your emotion.”
Ceptor turns back to Sybermane. “How much influence do you have on your kind?”
“A meeting could be arranged,” Mirable offers.
“Yes,” Ceptor enthuses. “We could bring you to meet your fellow Obsidians. Would you wish this to happen now?”
“Yes,” Sybermane agrees.
“Good. I was not going to give him a choice,” Ceptor announces..
Mirable picks up the conversation. “You will go to your fellow Obsidians, you will prevail upon them to consider us an opportunity, from which both we and the Obsidian could profit handsomely. We ask only what would be due for turning our backs on our master?”
Ceptor's hands are shaking at this point. Laying it on a bit thick, Sybermane thinks.
“Yes, Ceptor,” Mirable continues. “It is so near. It means everything to our kind, Sybermane, if you can convince them. Ceptor, send him to the others.”
Sybermane appears in the prison cell with his fellows.
“So,” he says. “How’s it going with you guys?”
He sees Asurbanipal leaning against a wall, and then the others.
“His mind has been assaulted in some way,” Dantalion says of the captain.
Axewing offers a healing to Asurbanipal, who comes around, his eyes fluttering open. He reaches out, one hand further ahead of the other, as if a spellcaster.
“Give it back!” he cries. Then he looks at his hands, and then around him. “Oh, I say. Where am I?”
“So,” Sybermane tries again. “What have you folks been up to?”
“We have been incarcerated in this foul chamber for some time,” Dantalion tells him.
“Are you well?” Axewing asks him. “Do you need healing?”
Sybermane is wounded to an extent, but suggests, “Save it for later.” Then he fills the others in on his conversation with Mirable and Sceptor.
“I think it is compelling they have chosen the one who knows the least to speak to,” Asmodeus asserts.
“Is it possible that what happened to Asurbanipal was done to you as well?” Axewing asks.
“That it is a manipulation of your mind?”
“I can’t see the sense of them having gone to that bother,” Sybermane replies.
“Just keep spilling your guts,” Jack urges. “Is there more?”
Sybermane completes his story.
“They seek to confuse you and thereby us,” Dantalion concludes. “ But we are so in the dark, we do not know enough to distrust what they are talking of.”
“There are things that don’t add up,” insists Asmodeus. “No matter how I do the figures, we are missing a key integer.”
Axewing suggests Asurbanipal might be able to supply that number.
“Who? Me? Would that I could. I don’t know that I can add anything.”
“Tell me what you know, and I will do the adding up,” Asmodeus urges.
Asurbanipal, telling his own tale, said he’d been in the wide passageway during the fight, and had heard a seductive voice calling him to a sleeping compartment. “I thought it would be impolite not to say hello. I went inside, and she was everything the voice promised and more beside. Details I will leave for another time. She brought me to a place and told me to remove any clothes I might find uncomfortable.”
“And then?” Dantalion tries to hurry him. “These prurient details cannot possibly be important.”
“There are often driving forces that cannot be forgotten. It was after the third, the young lady asked to absent herself a few moments to refresh herself, but she would bring back some delectable items. Instead I was approached by a large, armoured, violent warrior. Ceptor. He had a shield that came out of a bottle, like a Djinn.”
“These things are demons,” Jack condemned. “Not to be trusted.”
“What kind of demon?” Dantalion asks. “There are many such.”
“I am not the expert you are, but a creature of air and water,” Asurbanipal replies. “Perhaps you know of them by another name. This Ceptor summons a shield, and offered it to me, but I declined. He was most irritable at this, asked how I could expect to serve if didn’t use items of his favour. I indicated no interest in serving him, but he became most irate, saying he needed my skills as a captain. He said his was slain recently, and the position was open for me. I asked how he could know me for what I was? He said his gifts could sniff it on me.
“Knowing he had some perceptive capabilities, I decided to play it safe and reveal more of myself. I think he knew already. He was most pleased when I said I served Shadow, naming the Dragon to see what he would do. He reacted as one who knew such things. After that, he grew silent, then said he had to go and speak to another. I assume he is in control of the woman in some fashion. I was speaking to the girl of matters of my ship. Then Jack arrived.”
“He was unconscious the whole time,” Jack claims.
“Well then,” Dantalion says, turning to Asmodeus. “What does your Stylus tell us?”
“Still it does not add up. Something is very wrong with the situation we find ourselves in, my companions. I could keep working the numbers, but I don’t feel that will bring us any closer. The math says there is a mystery still to be solved. And we have something else to talk about.”
“About the Gods?” Axewing asks.
Asmodeus tells Asurbanipal, “You seem sensible now. Let us tell you of our decision. We wish to bring a God to this place.”
“This place?”
Jack says, “I can tell you it is a ship, a spaceship, some would call it.” --- “The Flagellant Receptor,” Sybermane offers. --- “A ship that has no captain,” Asurbanipal muses.
Jack points out that, in the earlier incarnation of Axildusk, such ships had been common. He believes the Receptor had spent quite a bit of time in that world, before the present Realm.
“Perhaps Asurbanipal should take them up on this offer,” Dantalion suggests. “Axewing has suggested this Anubis might be available, because he resides in Axildusk.”
“The world, not this Realm, though he did that too,” Jack says. He moves to stand next to Sybermane. “They want to bring Anubis here. And Asmodeus believes he can invoke the god somehow. But Axewing believes the Spectral knife is required, or might be necessary?”
“To bind the different parts and make him whole,” Axewing concurs.
“But the parts were spread over the Realm, not this one but the other,” Sybermane objects.
“We are the Obsidian. He claims he can do something,” Jack says.
“Sybermane, my good fellow,” Asmodeus begins, as the Equinn instantly realized he is somehow being set up. “I am a simple being. Perhaps simpler than the rest of you. I only want to help when I can. We have before us a chance to bring something of great importance into the world, to renew a missing part of the body of the realm.”
“I assume you mean the Gods.”
“Wise equine.” Asmodeus taps the Stylus to a cheek as talking. “Surely one of your Noble Thought would understand such a thing would only assist us in what is to come. It might be criminal to refuse such a possibility, a highest neglect to not do so if opportunity was to arise. And here we are, finally.”
“But what if the manipulations of our captors want us to do this, to do something to him in some way?” Sybermane asks, drawing a glare from Asmodeus.
Dantalion concedes, “I suppose we must consider we might be fooled.”
Asmodeus peers at Axewing, rubbing his chin. “Yes. It would not be beneficial to have been fooled into doing something like this, but I don’t see how it could be detrimental, either. Surely this could be the Gods on our side. You’ve had a great deal to do with the Veightal.”
“Yeah, me and Axewing here,” Jack admits. “Even the one mentioned, he wasn’t a God until the very end, I suppose you would say. It was his last act that made him a God. Before, he was a demigod. Perhaps fortune is smiling on us, your mispronouncing his name when you first spoke it. Could this be some ploy of our enemies to bring the syphonic variant of the one you named?”
“The knife, though, the knife,” Asmodeus says. “It cannot be manipulated. It is but a sharp instrument of the Veightal, and this Realm.”
Dantalion muses, “Yes. The Spectral knife. It is as though it referenced a future where Colour would be important. What would it mean to use such a thing here? Would we be changing the course of what is to come?”
“Who cares?” Asmodeus asks airily.
“I care. We should all care.”
“You would flit about and make no change at all,” Asmodeus accuses. “We must be definitive in our action. Surely the one you mentioned, he is worthy?”
“I suppose so,” Jack allows.
Axewing tells them that Anubis had been tasked by the other Veightal to survive one Realm, so they might exist in the next. His thinking is, if Anubis is reconstituted, it will aid in the return of the Veightal.
“Oh, my,” Asmodeus breathes. “All of them? How? Surely our enemy could not permit this? And he is a Noble Thought.” He refers, of course, to the Mule, though none dare utter his name.
“That’s why I’m saying we should consider Dantalion is right,” Jack says.
“One of the Veightal has not survived,” Axewing adds. “Anubis would replace that one in the Veightal… Amon.”
“The one of Death?” Dantalion asks incredulously. “Death died?”
Asurbanipal smiles. “It is a rather consistent inconsistency, is it not, Lady?”
Dantalion addresses Axewing. “Amon died, meaning the Veightal could no longer be formed. That much I can understand. That way, the Phoenix could not be formed.”
“It is already calculated, Lady,” Asmodeus interjects. “These are the things I spent my evenings with. The Veightal can’t reform without their nine components. My summation always add up to same number.”
“But that number is not six,” Dantalion suggests.
“I have a new component to add, as well,” Axewing says. “Anhur has been slain.”
“The devil you say,” Asmodeus replies coolly.
“Say it is not so,” Dantalion demands. “He was one of the greatest of their kind.”
“And he survived in whole,” Axewing says, referring to a previous Realm.
“I saw him on a pinnacle I reached, when I summoned the final charge. I saw him departing in his chariot. You’re telling me he is gone?”
“He is slain,” Axewing confirms.
Asmodeus’s Stylus is now writing on its own. “Ah. It is indeed a consideration that has been met. There is a variable accounted for in the formula. It was meant to be.”
“How?”
“By what we have suggested. We are on the right track with our calculations, my friend. Anubis. Anubis is a new god, one that can be added to the calculation, should he be brought forth in his fullness. Yes. It could all add up nicely. But surely there is more than this.”
Jack nudges Sybermane. “There might be more that you might not know? The one you know.”
“Khons,” Sybermane reveals.
“Khons?” Dantalion mused. “This name I do not know, yet is has the ring of some memory.”
“It sounds like moon,” Asurbanipal says.
Sybermane chooses that moment to manifest the Corne of Moonlight. It and he glow with a bluish light, almost like Axildusk’s Ghostlight.
“This is Khons then?” Axewing asks.
“He is part of many pantheons, if not most.”
“But not the Veightal,” Axewing says.
“Ah. Yes.” Asmodeus scribbles away. “He is not like Anubis. He would not be new to the Veightal. He is an Old God.”
“This would make the nine whole again,” Axewing says.
“It could bring the Veightal into reality. Reality. Hmm.”
“Now you’re getting the picture,” Jack says.
“A new reality,” Axewing continued. “A reality we are bound to change, to prevent the rise of the Cadavivva and the defeat the war.”
“Yes,” Asmodeus says. “That adds up more properly. There are still parts of equation I am not happy with. Doctors represent unreality. I am not yet convinced they mean to aid us. Rather they may hinder. Then, I realize also, what we’re dealing with is reality, the Cadavivva is the truth, and we seek to make it unreal. In which case the Doctors would be invaluable.”
“The Doctor brought us to the wrong ship,” Sybermane points out. Jack agrees.
“It is not wise to cast about recriminations in this way,” Dantalion chides. “Have we come any closer to knowing what our next action is?” Leave out grandiose results. Can your figuring tell us what comes next?”
“No,” is Asmodeus’s simple response.
“Well, I appreciate your honesty.”
“What we do here cannot be considered by itself.”
“You’re pretty wise when you forget about yourself, Asmodeus,” Jack says.
“I think I should summon the Silhouette,” Asurbanipal declares abruptly. “Should I? Has this been put in my mind? The thought came to me out of nowhere. I wasn’t even thinking of my ship.”
Axewing says, “One other thing to consider, one anomaly we must consider, especially as we are servants of Time….”
“And Shadow,” Sybermane adds.
“I speak of the blade, Nul, once wielded by the Steel General, now in the streets of Adhrilanka, waiting to be claimed. Is this not of importance?”
Dantalion notes, “The one of Melnibone has no sword anymore.”
“Does he wait perhaps for a blade?” Axewing asks.
“Nul was the blade of our masters. It must await it’s moment of destiny.”
“I haven’t worked on this to this point,” Asmodeus admits.
Jack again nudges Sybermane with his elbow, but his words are for Axewing. “Alright. You’ve brought it up. Why did you mention it?”
“Only that whoever bears it will be a significant component associated with us.”
“But it could be Elric, which would serve our purposes,” Dantalion says.
Asmodeus instructs, “We need to think in more than the short term. This could be a destructive thing. But with our Dragon, perhaps we need not fear it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Jack suggests.
Axewing says, “It was also said to be wielded by one of our enemies, a Colonel Jade?”
“Who is this one?” Dantalion asks.
“I do not know much more of it than this.”
“Wielded when?”
“I believe he would have been the most recent wielder.”
“It’s in Adhrilanka,” Jack offers. “The capital of the Draegeran Empire. The City of the Veer.”
“And this colonel works with the empire?” Dantalion inquires.
“He is of the Canticle. He works for the Jenoine.”
Before the re-creation of Axildusk, Asmodeus says, there were nine Mainstay worlds, and nine Gods of the Veightal.
“Ah,” Jack says, as if a revelation has been made.
“I have a strong sense I should be summoning the Silhouette,” Asurbanipal repeats. “It’s like it’s shouting at me. Like the Wheel.”
“You hold the Wheel of Destiny,” Sybermane points out. “Could this be your destiny?”
“I certainly hope not,” the captain answers. “I hope I would go beyond this. I just don’t know why my feelings are so strong, here in the Aethera. It is not a place of the Obsidian.”
“Whatever it might mean, it is evident that Time is becoming important,” Asmodeus says.
“I am not of your Dragon.”
“That is why I mention it. Perhaps our time grows short on this vessel. Perhaps we are being warned. Or perhaps we are being manipulated? We have already agreed, those of us with Time. Jack has delayed his decision, so you might make it complete. What say you? Should we or should we not invoke the name of Anubis, and bring him here? Whether in part, or in component part?”
Sybermane suggests doing so might be risky. “Anubis-Set commissioned me to assassinate the other Anubises. I have not done so.”
“So you have not killed any Gods?” Jack asks. So that’s where he and Asmodeus have been leading the conversation, Sybermane thinks.
“Not any Anubises,” Sybermane answers.
Then it’s Asmodeus’s turn. “If my calculations are current, if one has dealt with the Veightal, and only one has died, if my calculations are correct….”
“I assassinated Anubis,” Sybermane confirms.
Axewing is indignant. “Am I correct in hearing this?”
Dantalion unsheathes her Greatsword. Sybermane stands nonchalantly.
“Let’s calm down,” Jack urges.
“Tell us the reason and cause,” Axewing insists.
“According to my numbers, it is because this Khons made him,” Asmodeus says.
“That would be my expectation,” Axewing says grimly.
“One might need to speak to Khons,” Asmodeus adds. “Are you able to speak to this one?”
“Khons is about,” Axewing retorts, undoubtedly recalling his recent meeting with the God and Taiphon. “He is aware. But I would have taken greater umbrage if I knew this was the case.”
“I, too,” Dantalion agrees. “These things are unconscionable, that the Obsidian should be part of this. But of course we did not know our place together.”
“The equation speaks of a necessity,” Asmodeus offers. “Perhaps this Khons knows better than we as to the fate of the Veightal. We do not know the details of the leave-taking. We have already done the numbers up for the potential restoration of the Veightal. Khons would add into this number, and perhaps Anhur could be restored at the same time. But why would he be killed?
“Because he was already here,” Dantalion suggested.
“I see some semblance of simple sense in what you say, Lady,” Asurbanipal admits. “This is to say, it is well-reasoned. Perhaps it is a simple thing. Cannot you just ask this Khons?”
Sybermane tells them that Khons is an old God, perhaps the oldest, who existed in a time before the stars.
“That doesn’t add up,” Asmodeus objects. “There were beings about before such things. The Gods did not create beings.”
Sybermane shrugs. The argument seemed pointless to him. He is not one for religious dialectics.
“On this suspect vessel?” Dantalion observes about trying to summon Khons. “Is it suitable to bring such a one here?”
“You have grown most silent, warrior,” Asmodeus says to Axewing.
“I have learned things that have made me silent.”
“Still, the calculations are not complete. It might be part of a grand scheme. A plan already formulated. The calculations are being made, my friends.”
Axewing asks, “This place where we are, this Aethera. Is this where the Shrouds have been taken? Then perhaps the gods would help in the release of the shrouds.”
“Or do we take them to the Astra, and tell them how affected we are by the removal of the Shrouds?”
Axewing sinks back into his lament. “This God was most dear to us. His servants, the Battering Lions, were my personal friends. I know others who were close to them. Even the Tuan Zi, who is no more. It is hard to get my head around the fact one of our own assassinated one of our Gods.”
“I don’t know about assassinated,” Sybermane replied. “Killed him, certainly.”
Axewing says of Khons, “It is difficult to think. Until this Realm, I had not been aware of this one’s existence. The blood of Horus runs through my veins and calls out. If you can speak to his Khons, I suggest there is no better time for the Obsidian that he answers this. I cannot go further until this event is understood.”
“I always dislike a stickler,” Jack grumbles.
“We are the Obsidian!” Axewing declares.
“Like the Amberites, but made up of outsiders,” Sybermane observes. “I don’t understand it.”
“Our powers come from not coming to this world,” Asmodeus offers, which Sybermane doesn’t find helpful.
“What does being Obsidian mean?”
Dantalion offers a reply. “We know this substance for what it is, and the colour Black is part of that. I’m not sure it adds any more value than putting a lion on a shield. Perhaps a Herald would explain it better.”
“I have no connection to the colour Black,” Axewing protests. “I serve the Light.”
“Perhaps some of us serve by being in opposition,” Dantalion suggests. “But of course, you, Sybermane, are of Shadow.”
The Equinn, however, is distracted by waves of heat coming from the wall at his right shoulder. He steps away and turns to face the wall.
“What’s up?” Jack asks.
“The wall got hot, all of a sudden.”
The barrier dissolves in a white heat, there one moment, disintegrated the next. They see a man dressed in red velvet and armour, with brown leather gauntlets and boots. He steps oddly onto the floor of the compartment, and they hear a sibilant nose from outside, half serpentine, the rest something else. The newcomer looks at them all.
“The Obsidian, I presume,” he says, as he bows with a flourish. He carries a very thin rapier and has ordinary looks. He has a rod stuffed in his belt that has a slightly hooked end on it, not sharpened. Like a shepherd’s crook but only eighteen inches tall. A whip is at this side. Both objects appear decanted. “I hadn’t been the one to speak and not receive rejoinder. Perhaps you don’t wish to escape this vessel.”
“Escape? That’s ideal to me,” Asurbanipal confesses.
“Not so fast,” Jack remonstrates. “Who the hell are you?”
“I am Thermo, Thermocles if you will. I am a Pernan, if that helps you.”
“It’s about time you showed up.”
“A Pernan?” Dantalion seems startled. “Here? No.”
“I have come to rescue you.”
“I am happy to receive your rescue,” Asurbanipal assures the intruder.
Dantalion is more reserved. “We must know more before we step out into the Aether.”
“Beyond where you stand, I see the Aethera.”
“We cannot just step into this,” Dantalion repeats.
“I wouldn’t think of it. I am here to rescue you.”
“I am not afraid to step lively,” Asurbanipal assures the Pernan.
A small white dragon pokes its head into the compartment, through the dissolved wall. It has four legs, and something resembling a wild jhereg flies about it.
“The jhereg is my pathfinder. It shows me the way to Axildusk. I am a Pernan. I work for you.”
“If it’s a trick, it’s a trick,” Sybermane observes to the others. He sees no point in refusing the rescue.
“This one could confirm it,” Jack says, motions to Asmodeus.
“He is indeed a dragonrider of Pern. Though it could be a mind trick to further fool us.
“Your creature is too small to carry us all,” Jack observes.
“My dragon does not move you by wing, rather by magic.”
“Can you take us to the Shroud?” Axewing asks.
“You mean the Astra? The Shrouds are people of the Astra.”
“But they’ve been taken.”
“You mean the plural then.”
“I wish to go to the Shrouds who were stolen from us. Our history was stolen from us, much as the Shrouds were.”
Thermo says he will try to explain, but first puts his head on the crest of the dragon. Time passes, and he turns to look at them.
“He tells us those you seek are nearby, in Aethera. But they are not as they should be. They have been turned to the Jenoines’ purpose. Long ago, they were given ambitions and dreams not their own. Perhaps, Shrouds might know the answers, but they have been captives for a very long time, and they might not know what you seek. What would you have me do?”
Axewing insists they should seek the Shrouds. Sybermane doesn’t see the sense in that. “We came her to eliminate the Bit as a threat. That hasn’t worked out, has it? And now you suggest another adventure, with little to go on.”
“Sybermane would make an excellent schoolmaster,” Asurbanipal observes. “Back to the lessons at hand. Still, I take your point. Perhaps we should do one thing at a time.”
Dantalion says to Thermocles, “So you offer us a return to where we are from, at a very basic level.”
“Yes, I could find a safe enough route with the jhereg to your home, but the dragon could take us to many such places. Though I do not know the wisdom in this. The sense from my mount is that there are things about this place, the Shrouds placed among the Aethera, that make me worry. The Mordent, the Nebous, the Ambent and the Ternal are afflicted. Or worse.”
“Perhaps we the Obsidian are afflicted as well,” Axewing suggests.
“We are afflicted?” Jack asked.
“It is a word that might be used,” Thermocles states.
“Ew,” Asurbanipal says with some distress. “It sounds as if we are diseased.”
“Some might call you so,” Thermocles agrees. “Others might simply say you are compromised. But that is the nature of what you are, and what you must be. Each might be compromised in a different fashion. Know you are all different. The matter of your uniqueness is what makes you important. Each must be what they are, and succeed or fail despite their own shortcomings.”
“What shortcomings?” Jack says in mock dismay.
“You are my master in all things, Jack of Shadows. I only say you might know better than me. These others, they don’t resemble what I expect. This one is a woman. I had not been given to understand any of the Obsidian are women. Might one of you have replaced another?”
“I am Dantalion. I am his daughter.”
“Perhaps you others are children of those who came before?”
“I am who I am,” Asurbanipal declares.
“You are Asmodeus,” Thermocles guesses.
“Sink me. I’m wounded.”
“You are the sailor? The one of the Wheel?”
“So you will know us,” Dantalion introduces each of the Obsidian in turn.
Sybermane suggests they first go to the Silhouette, to ensure it and their escape route from the Aethera are secured before venturing anywhere else, including, as Axewing calls it, the “vault” where he met the Equinn, Taiphon and Khons.
Dantalion says, “Take us to the ship, and then we will decide who will go on to the vault.”
In the next instance, they are standing on the deck of the Silhouette. Not too faraway the ship they have just left can be viewed.
“Stop wasting time,” Axewing demands. “Can we just go there?”
“That’s very interesting,” Jack notes about the dragon. “A creature after my own heart.”
“Who of us will go to the vault?” Asmodeus inquires.
Unsurprisingly, Axewing is first to answer. “I will go to the vault. I need to get some answers.”
Dantalion concurs.
“I will come,” Jack volunteers. Sybermane feels no need to do so, since he’s doubtlessly included.
“Then I will stay behind, and trust these to bring the numbers we need,” Asmodeus says to Asurbanipal, who will remain to defend his ship if needed.
“You are prepared then,” Thermocles states. “The dragon awaits your command.”
And like before, in an instant too short to measure, they are in the vault.
Transcribed by R.Perry
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